


[WARRIORS REWRITE]: INTO THE WILD

by cocobell



Series: The Prophecies Begin [REWRITE] [1]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Battle, Bisexual Male Character, Blood and Gore, Canon Rewrite, Cats, F/F, F/M, Gay Male Character, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, POV Third Person, Rebellion, RiverClan (Warriors), ShadowClan (Warriors), Sunningrocks belong to ????, Territory Disputes, ThunderClan (Warriors), Trans Male Character, Transgender Redtail, WindClan (Warriors), but it's like a celebrity crush, cats!!!!, firepaw has a crush on whitestorm, just establishing sexualities, so its not actually a ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-10-14 02:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17500247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocobell/pseuds/cocobell
Summary: Spottedleaf has been hearing whispers of fire... perhaps it means a new warrior comes to the wild, or perhaps it means a path of destruction that will destroy the Clans themselves.A rewrite of the whole Warriors series because there are many flaws, as well as a lot of gay, personal headcanons, and some new mythology to spice it up. Who knew these cats genuinely needed gods? I did!





	1. ALLEGIANCES

**T H U N D E R C L A N**

**LEADER**

**Bluestar** — a blue-gray she-cat, tinged with silver around her muzzle, striking deep blue eyes, and a large distinct scar on her shoulder.

**DEPUTY**

**Thistleclaw** — a large, dark gray and white tabby tom with amber eyes and is covered in a plethora of scars.

_ (APPRENTICE: DUSTPAW) _

**MEDICINE** **CAT**

**Spottedleaf** — a tiny, beautiful she-cat with a black coat dotted with dapples of brown and white, as well as big, pretty amber eyes and a bushy tail.

**WARRIORS**

**Redtail** — a small tortoiseshell tom with a bushy distinctive ginger tail and bright, glimmering amber eyes.

_ (APPRENTICE: RAVENPAW) _

**Lionheart** — a magnificent golden tabby tom with thick fur like a lion’s mane and bright brown eyes. a bit old looking, but that is not the case.

_ (APPRENTICE: GRAYPAW) _

**Tigerclaw** — a large, thick furred tabby tom with unusually long claws, burning amber eyes, and a coat of dark brown fur to make them more striking than usual.

**Whitestorm** — a big, lean magnificent completely white-furred tom with big unnaturally golden eyes.

_ (APPRENTICE: SANDPAW) _

**Darkstripe** — a large, lean black tabby tom with bright yellow eyes.

**Runningwind** — a wiry, light brown tabby tom with dark stripes and deep green eyes.

**Willowpelt** — a slender silver she-cat with unnaturally icy-blue eyes.

**Mousefur** — a small dusky tabby she-cat with sunset-amber eyes.

**Longtail** — a small pale tom covered in jet-black tabby strikes, with deep blue eyes and an unnaturally long tail, hence the name.

**APPRENTICES**

**Ravenpaw** — a tiny, feminine black tom with big purple eyes, a tiny white dash on his chest, and a white tail tip.

**Graypaw** — a long-haired gray tom with a big dark gray stripe down his back and striking yellow eyes.

**Dustpaw** — a lithe dark brown tabby tom with big amber eyes.

**Sandpaw** — a small, pale sandy-colored she-cat with leaf-green eyes and faint white stripes in her fur.

**QUEENS**

**Frostfur** — a completely white pretty she-cat with icy blue eyes.

_ (KITS: CINDERKIT, THORNKIT, BRACKENKIT, BRIGHTKIT) _

**Brindleface** — A pretty dark gray tabby she-cat with black stripes and glistening deep blue eyes.

_ (KITS: ASHKIT, FERNKIT) _

**Goldenflower** — a golden and tan she-cat with pretty yellow eyes and a bushy tail.

_ (KITS: SWIFTKIT, LYNXKIT) _

**Speckletail** — a pale golden tabby she-cat with deep brown eyes.

_ (KITS: CURRENTLY PREGNANT, UNKNOWN) _

**ELDERS**

**Halftail** — big dark brown tabby tom with part of his tail missing. 

**Smallear** — gray tom with very small ears. The oldest tom in ThunderClan. 

**Patchpelt** — small black-and-white tom. 


	2. PROLOGUE

The forest was still.

Other than the croaking of frogs in the distant lands and chirping of birds who dared to stay awake during the nights where the predators roamed, silence remained over the gurgling of the eerily quiet river, a calm before a storm, clearly a memorable amount of silence despite what was due for the day.

Tigerclaw himself found his breath hitching with momentary desperation; the silence the rival cats gave had always been awkward as he awaited for his time to move within the bushes. Thistleclaw was ruthless, he knew for a fact, and would not hesitate as soon as he picked up any slightest movement.

But even then, the deputy’s movements were strategic and well-planned through many sunrises up to this moment, flashes of his instructions to tread carefully were still fresh as new cuts in his mind. 

Just as he had learned from his former mentor, he put all of his weight on his haunches, pupils slitting and claws flexing, faintly aware of his clanmates next to him copying his movements. The RiverClan cats had made it prominent they were there through their quickly-paced movements through the body of water that separated the two territories.

Except for what they were fighting over now.  _ This,  _ this was a different place, full of prey that only ThunderClan had worked with while hunting along the rocks, one that many lives had been lost in order to defend. Crookedstar- that scoundrel- had been so insistent to reclaim it many times, never to admit defeat.

Tigerclaw couldn’t complained. The thrill and adrenaline of battle kept him on edge and ready for him to concoct plans with the apprentices on how to improve what they currently knew, it made him used to fighting and helping the others get used to it, too.

Runningwind snaked through the bushes next to him, and Tigerclaw braced himself as he moved according to plan. They had staked this stage out perfectly, and he found a toothy grin making it’s way on his muzzle.

Tigerclaw watched slowly as Runningwind crept out of the darkness in a stalking position, preparing as the first wave of warriors to follow him slowly. Mousefur, Redtail, and Thistleclaw would be with them, while Willowpelt, Whitestorm, Darkstripe, and Longtail would wait behind for the perfect moment to send another swarm in.

The strongest warriors first, the youngest next. That’s how it worked, RiverClan rarely expected a plan. ThunderClan was the only Clan that was used to it, despite the fact that they were severely outnumbered.

Tigerclaw, quick on his paws, followed Runningwind with strategic steps. He felt Redtail’s bushy ginger tail whisk past his nose and follow, pressing against Runningwind in a sign of pure comfort. Mousefur came after in moments, followed by Tigerclaw himself and Thistleclaw. They were out in the open, right in sight, in the middle of Sunningrocks.

Thistleclaw lowered his head, preparing to leap, and rose his jaws and yowled  _ loudly,  _ ripping and echoing it through the air. Tigerclaw grinned as adrenaline rushed through him and made his fur stand on end as in response, the RiverClan warriors swarmed into the clearing.

Perfect, then.

The still clearing exploded into yowls, cries, and angry grunts. Claws ripped at flesh, teeth went for exposed bellies, and amongst it was him, circling the RiverClan cats while looking for a perfect opponent.

Eventually, he zeroed in on his target. A solid dark ginger cat with sharp green eyes, prowling for Thistleclaw for a deputy versus deputy fight.

_ Oakheart!  _ Tigerclaw hissed, but not aloud.

He’d need to protect his former mentor and deputy. That was a job of a ThunderClan warrior! Bracing himself, he rushed forwards, instantly flexing his claws to full length and leaping over to the RiverClan warrior.

Perhaps it was a size difference or the fact that he was just lucky, but his paws slammed into Oakheart’s skull and he ended up knocking him down to the ground, screaming to make his voice heard among the battle.

“Oakheart!” He howled, speaking with truth, “How dare you hunt in our territory?! The sunningrocks belong to ThunderClan!”

The RiverClan tom yowled underneath him, thrashing wildly to break out his grip. Tigerclaw leaned down with a snarl, sinking his claws into Oakheart’s chest fur. When realizing he wasn’t going to get out so easily, he looked up at him with sharp eyes and snickered.

“After tonight, Tigerclaw, this will just be another RiverClan hunting ground,” Oakheart spat back, venom in his tone that Tigerclaw didn’t expect from a usually careless and loving warrior, one that they usually cared about.

He glared back down at him, amber eyes burning with anger, sharing the pure hatred between them. “You may swim like otters,” he began, opening his jaws to sink his set of teeth into Oakheart’s throat, “But you and your warriors do not belong in this forest!”

The RiverClan deputy once again began to squirm under him, and Tigerclaw had to keep his paws perfectly balanced to stop himself from rolling over. Unlike some of his opponents before, Oakheart was stronger and more experienced, just as he was. It was most likely why he had been specifically chosen to be the deputy of the Clan, Tigerclaw realized.

A yowl rose among the clamor, and Tigerclaw snapped his jaws shut to whirl around. At that second, Oakheart broke away from his grip and rushed into the shadows to continue the battle. It was a very specific voice that he had to narrow his eyes to spot.

Mousefur!

A wiry RiverClan tom had pinned the small dusky she-cat on her belly, lunging towards her neck without hesitation, still dripping from his quick swim across the river. Tigerclaw’s claws glinted in the moonlight, soon to be with blood, he told himself.

He rushed forwards and slammed into the tom. Mousefur’s shoulder was dripping with blood, probably ripped open by greedy claws. One eye was closed as her face contorted into a wince, staring at him with a terrified expression.

“Mousefur,” Tigerclaw gasped, “Quick, you’re hurt, run!”

She had been laying down, one paw on her shoulder, but listened to the command from the warrior. She stood to her paws, scrambling away nervously and yowling above the battle, “More RiverClan warriors are coming!”

Thistleclaw’s gruff commands were the only response to this, “Wave two, head out  _ NOW!  _ We need you on the field!”

He was so focused on the four ThunderClan cats swarming into the field (scaring the pelts out of most of the RiverClan warriors) that he didn’t notice as the tabby under him used a burst of energy and clawed open his nose.

Tigerclaw jumped back, allowing his space to once again break out. Blood blinded him for a moment, him stumbling back at the stinging pain in his eyes, but he still found it common courtesy to jump and quickly sink his teeth into the hind leg of the RiverClan warrior, slamming them to the ground. He heard a crack and a yowl until all that met his teeth was air.

Blood was welling on his muzzle from the scratch, and he found himself shaking it off, scattering scarlet drops onto the rocky platform under him. Redtail was back-to-back with Runningwind, chasing off the swarm of RiverClan cats.

They were outnumbered.

Redtail looked towards Thistleclaw, who was in a scuffle with multiple cats,  _ alone.  _ The deputy always managed to do something amazing like that, Tigerclaw admired. An honorable warrior who would make a perfect leader.

“Thistleclaw!” Redtail managed among the yowling and thrill of battle, “We’re outnumbered! There - there are too many RiverClan warriors!”

The bigger warrior made a loud yowl in response, “I’m holding up fine! I’m not giving up Sunningrocks again!”

Tigerclaw watched the interaction, not sure if he should step in. They were, in fact, being swarmed, but they’d be giving up moons of work for this moment, this perfectly planned moment that went just as they wanted it to-

No.

Thistleclaw would understand.

“Runningwind and I can’t hold out much longer!” The tom howled, clawing a RiverClan cat across the muzzle, before rearing backwards to break out of his partner fight back-to-back and kicking his haunches into the warrior’s skull, sending them tumbling backwards into the lower area of the rocks.

Thistleclaw, covered in scars, growled. “We’re doing fine!”

Runningwind cut in sarcastically, “As much as I love gaining my body count, I’m not gonna make it, man! More RiverClan warriors are coming, wave two isn’t helping hold out that much! Mousefur can’t even go anymore!”

Tigerclaw turned to see the small she-cat huddling in the corner, pressing a leaf to her shoulder and gasping with pain. Longtail was standing in front of her, snarling loudly with his claws unsheathed to make sure nobody would challenge her while in pain.

Thistleclaw noticed this and gritted his teeth, glancing around the battle while still fighting, being as awesome as he could. “Fine,” he hissed, “I’ll give it up this once. But we’re going to bring everyone next time.”

“Yessir!” Runningwind yowled in response, bumping Redtail’s shoulder. The two broke out of their partner fight and joined Thistleclaw at the highest rock, closest to their territory.

Tigerclaw, pretending that he hadn’t been listening in, waited until the ThunderClan deputy howled for everyone to retreat before he joined them.

The ThunderClan warriors, jumping from rock to rock, joined the deputy, slowly beginning to leave the territory. Tigerclaw glanced angrily back at the RiverClan warriors, snarling to himself. He couldn’t take this,  _ all that work for nothing- _

The cats disappeared into the trees, but Tigerclaw hesitated to follow them for a moment. His face was grim, eyes furious slits. Oakheart was giving a jubilant cry of victory, ringing through the bloodstained rocks.

RiverClan had won.

With a hesitant stare, returning Oakheart’s smug one directed right towards him, he leaped through the rocks and followed his warriors into the trees.

* * *

 

The forest, once again, was still.

The only light in the long shadows were the fireflies and the pale light of the full moon, the time of the reckoning, as Bluestar knew it. The only sound was soft and faint, which she recognized as the snores and scuffles of sleeping cats.

Her deep blue pools reflected the moon as she searched it. It felt bigger that night, almost uncannily. It was the time that prophecies from Moonstar and Thunderstar would come down to ThunderClan, she supposed?

Perhaps. She flexed her claws in frustration.

Behind her, a small tortoiseshell emerged from the darkness, pawsteps quick and silent, but Bluestar acknowledged the medicine cat’s presence, turning her head. Amber washed over blue, and she gave a light smile, patting the area next to her.

The small cat nodded, hopping up to the area beside her. They sat in silence for a good long moment, admiring the night sky, counting silverpelt. It was nothing different than their map of the place, thankfully. No new stars to join it tonight.

“How is Mousefur?” Bluestar asked, eyes half-closed, entranced more so in the night sky. She wondered to herself where Snowfur and Duskflower and  _ Mosskit  _ were up there, perhaps in the higher star maps, serving under Moonstar herself.

“She is young and healthy,” The medicine cat responded wistfully, tail flicking back and forth as she observed with, and Bluestar smiled at the peace and content in her voice. “Her wounds are quite deep, but they will heal quickly.”

Bluestar managed a weak frown, tilting her head to stare at the medicine cat, eyes narrowed while she hummed with thought at that. “Spottedleaf, I am worried for the fate of ThunderClan. We are losing many of our territories… not to mention that we are fresh out of new warriors at the moment.”

Spottedleaf flicked her tail back and forth, ears perking with interest. Her amber gaze washed over the leader’s, intertwining her tail with hers in a sign of comfort. Bluestar gave her a sharp nod to say what she wished to say, so she did. “We have many strong kits in the nursery right now, do we not? Our apprentices are mighty fine as well.”

Bluestar flexed her claws, scraping them against the rock she sat on, leaving faint marks to be covered by passing time. Her claws were not sharp enough to lead any lasting marks, so she just responded calmly. “It is so early into newleaf… Thunderstar would usually bless us around times like these.”

Spottedleaf slipped her tail away from Bluestar’s, soothingly placing it on her shoulder. “Let us not question the decisions of the Gods. Perhaps something new is coming to ThunderClan, I may receive a full-fledged sign other than my dreams.”

“You dream of fire,” Bluestar reminisced, “That fire can save our Clan. Perhaps they speak of a kit to be born soon, a cat of fire?”

Spottedleaf smiled, “It can mean many things. Though fire is damaging to the forests, it also springs new life, does it not? It may leave temporary marks to remember, though eventually it shall grow lush again, leaving new life in its place. It’s the old words of Moonstar herself, maybe she was referencing that.”

“Moonstar’s decisions have always been odd…” Bluestar drawled, and she stole a glance at Spottedleaf. “Let’s keep an eye out for a cat of fire for now, right?”

The medicine cat smiled at her and looked back up at the sky. “Right. Have you checked our star maps, yet?”

“I see no new stars.”

Spottedleaf got to her paws once again, “I will go check for now, just to be sure. Every new star is either a blessing or an omen.” Muttering something that Bluestar couldn’t make out, Spottedleaf padded off.

She tipped her head to the side.

Why did the gods always have to be so cryptic?


	3. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rusty meets some cats while exploring in the woods.

Other than the distant chirping of crickets and faint songs of birds in the mood to stay out longer than they usually would, and the sloshed sound of wet, wild grass under his paws, the forest was peaceful.

Almost eerily so, Rusty realized, his deep, fiery ginger fur sticking out like a large splatter of black paint against a blank canvas of white. That was how his hue-man had described his pelt against the grass, after all, and it seemed to stick with him more than ever.

Despite the implications of danger that this place gave, the waft and mingle of leafy scents and oncoming morning dew once again drew him onward, but this time he was brave. Snaking through the grass in movements akin to a viper, he advanced on how his instincts told him to; quick, in order to pursue his prey.

Rusty was noble this time, he was going to be as noble as possible. He wanted to impress his hue-man, to find the plumpest catch possible and bring it from the woods he was progressing towards back to her. She would enjoy it. After all, it was his way of showing his affections, for he felt more wild than ever before. She had fed him and cared for him, she deserved food and care in return.

Light, cool breeze brushed through his fur. His whiskers twitched with the freedom of the hunt. It felt genuinely like a good dream, it felt like he was getting somewhere. He liked this feeling- it felt so familiar, yet at the same time deprecating.

A flash of gray interrupted his thoughts, nerves tensing. Lowering his muzzle, he inhaled the strong, sweet scent of mouse, still in place for him. Creeping forwards, he gave it a long stare, making sure he was completely downwind. It’s small beady eyes were only focused on the area ahead, oblivious to his predatory movements.

Placing his weight on his haunches, he prepared to spring, somehow now nearly invisible in the shadows, as if they bunched up for cover. He moved like a powerful hunter, like he had done this so many times that the thrill was engraved in his mind. The feeling was familiar, it suited him, and caused all intentions of finding the mouse slipping away. It was his mouse. He caught it. Not his hue-man.

With one final check of the small furry creature in the right place, he arched his back completely, tail high enough and stuck up like a twig so it wouldn’t brush the leaves, even softly, avoiding the possibility of it alerting the prey of his presence.

With one last final pawstep forwards, he sprung, instantly flexing his claws to full length. Leaves showered over the forest floor behind him, but he couldn’t care less. The mouse didn’t spot him until he was only a small length away, so it didn’t have time to swerve and retreat from his ambush.

With a final squeak from his prey, Rusty bit down on its plump body, causing its squirming to go limp in his jaws. Sheathing his claws, he let the taste of blood rest on his tongue, but was only met with… nothing.

It was always nothing.

Dropping the mouse, Rusty stared down at it with an angry green glare, pupils in slits. All of that adrenaline was gone, muscles tired from the side-effects of being basically pampered for as long as he could remember.

He knocked it away with his paws, causing it to fly onto the tangled roots of a tree, blood pooling around the carcass. The satisfaction was basically gone, leaving only a moment of self-deprecation for his decisions.

What a waste.

Frowning, he stared into the dark shadows. His eyes narrowed, muscles tensed, as a noise roared in the distance. Mouth gaping, he basically leaped to his paws at the surprise of the action, unsheathing his claws and hissing.

It sounded like the yowls of cats, mixed with the familiar sound of home from when his bowl was filled on the daily.

He followed the noise, ears perked but still visibly nervous, until something in him screamed at him to stop. Staring at the yawning darkness and inky black shadows, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to investigate.

A shape moved in the darkness, and his ears pinned down to the back of his head. The memories flashed in his mind, and he turned to run-to hide- to get out of there- but it was too late.

A cat leapt out of the shadows, teeth bared and heading straight for his throat. They met his neck fur and sank, just as he had attacked the mouse before, and black spots danced in his vision.

Falling limp, Rusty let unconsciousness rule over him.

* * *

Fur drenched in sweat, voice hoarse, Rusty awoke with a fearful yowl, hackles raised as he leapt upwards to face his nonexistent attacker. His eyes were as wide as saucers, claws tapping against the cotton of his cat bed.

It took him a long moment to realize where he was, and the adrenaline died as fast as it came. His blue collar pinched uncomfortably against his neck, a feeling he’d never get used to. Instinctively he placed one claw on it, tugging it away from his soft fur, but it hardly budged under his grip. From his location, the scent of his bland hue-man brand food wafted into the kitchen, destroying any last remnants of the smell of mouse.

Of course he had been dreaming.

 _Stupid smells,_ he thought spitefully, leaf-green eyes darkening with emotion, _I liked that dream, and they gotta go and do that._

His tail flicked back and forth with discomfort, claws tapping against the cold stone-like tile floor. Instead of the lush forest, his kitchen was… dusty. Not like what he preferred, not what it had quickly chased away. Until he had attempted to taste the blood, everything felt familiar and real, which was the result of having the dream so many times.

At least his hue-mans had refilled his dish. Walking past the table where they ate all high and mighty away from him, he stepped over to the metal feeder and sniffed the hard, tasteless pellets for a moment. Better to eat than nothing.

Reluctantly, despite having tasted this hundreds of times before, he swallowed a few hesitant mouthfuls to fill his belly and quickly stepped away before he would have to smell that any longer. He didn’t like it in the slightest.

Pacing back down his airless, hot kitchen, he slipped his plump body through a plastic cat flap, which compressed against his fur to the point where he had a moment of struggle, eventually finding his way back into the night air where the light had drained away. The sun had set sometime while he was dreaming, he hadn’t remembered it being nighttime.

It was definitely raining lightly. Rusty’s eyes reflected the pale moonlight, almost having a silvery tint. His fur was already quite drenched from his sweat after his dream, so he wasn’t the most affected by the rain, but it still was uncomfortable against his fur.

He stalked down the tidy garden, passing by rows of bushes and pretty purple flowers. Normally he would’ve stopped to smell them or look at them, but he was more focused on one goal at a time as he saw the fence and grinned to himself.

Bracing himself, he leaped onto his fence, lounging and watching the forest beyond. On a good day, he’d do this, wondering the consequences of his actions if he decided to enter himself. Often, by Jake or Princess or Smudge, he’d be told old stories of cats who lived together in groups and feasted on the blood of cats, though Jake was the only one who had a humorous feeling to his tone.

Perhaps they were lying.

Perhaps it’d be safe if he just…

Pupils slitting, ears swelling around as he paid attention to the slightest of sounds, he kicked off the fence, landing with a soft thud in the grass. Tail still brushing against the wood, he felt the wind in his fur, though with the collar there wasn’t as much comfort as in his dream, where it wasn’t there in the first place.

With a light smile to himself, he took a few steps forwards. Should he be doing this? Would it really be hurting anyone if he decided to take a walk around, maybe catch a mouse or a vole or something?

Taking a few more hesitant steps, he sniffed the air and looked back at his house. His hue-man must be calling his names, he would usually be able to keep sense of her emotions and desires if he focused hard enough. He hated that higher sense of empathy, so he was going to neglect it this time. While he usually wanted to help her, this time he wanted to work on his own. She could see him later.

The rain had definitely stopped by now, had he been thinking by now? His skin was mostly warm and dry under his thick coat, but raindrops still glistened under the moonlight on his fur, bathed by the silver brightness. He didn’t have time to stop and admire, because he had thus become dead set on his goals.

A movement behind him set him off before he could move any further. Still on-edge around the aftermath of his dream, he whirled around, unsheathing his long claws and staring up at his fence. He relaxed to see a familiar white cat with black spots, amber eyes glistening with curiosity at his actions.

Smudge.

“Where are you going?” Smudge hummed, lounging comfortably but ungracefully on the fence with his bushy tail hanging to the side, twitching as he looked down at him. “Are you leaving? Jake’s going to be worried, you know.”

Rusty sighed at that comment, closing his eyes with a nervous smile. “Oh, Smudge, hey. Just going to-”

Smudge leaped to his paws, nearly falling off the fence. His mouth agape and his eyes huge with realization. “You’re not going into the woods, right? Look, dude, do you know what’s out there?!”

Rusty sat down to reply. “I’m just going for a look, no harm done.”

 _“No harm done,”_ Smudge mocked in a condescending tone, sounding forceful and slightly angry. “Wouldn’t catch me in there. Jake’s told all of us about what happened in there, remember? Cats who rip the guts out from house cats like us and eat them, and then sharpen their claws on our bones!”

Rusty snorted. “Do you seriously believe those stories? My dad’s old and all, I don’t really trust his stories. Besides, he’s totally being playful about it, he’s probably just not telling us the truth… or something. I’m only going for a look around, like I said, I’ll be back by tomorrow.”

Smudge frowned, looking like a concerned friend. He gazed at Rusty with his eyebrows furrowed, wrinkling his black nose in disgust. “Maybe you shouldn’t do it in the middle of the night?” He asked nervously, “So you don’t get lost?”

“Not going far.”

“You still could get lost…”

“I’ll be back by tomorrow,” Rusty repeated, shaking some droplets of rain out of his ginger fur. “If I’m not back by when the sun rises tomorrow, tell Princess and Jake where I was, okay? I don’t want those two to freak out about me again.”

Smudge looked on the verge of laughter as he reminisced on an old memory, by the hazy look in his eyes. He shook his head, shifting his weight to his haunches. With one last look, he concluded the conversation.

“Alright, Rusty, but don’t tell me I didn’t warn you. If you come back full of scratches, I will fuss about you until you never here the end of it. Oh yeah, and don’t die, either! I care about you, okay?”

And with that, he turned and rushed down the fence, springing back into the comfort of his own garden. Rusty narrowed his eyes, lost in thought as he contemplated that conversation for a moment, before continuing on.

In a flash of ginger, feeling the grass light beneath his paws, Rusty scampered deep into the woods, ignoring his promise of ‘not going far.’ He felt free- freer than ever before, and he wasn’t going to let something he said to Smudge hold him back.

Slowing down from his high, Rusty sighed to himself and stared blankly at the ground. This felt like his dream, except there was no sense of pride and relief and familiarity, so he ended up feeling like he stuck out too much, which sucked.

A flash of small gray fur cut him out of his insecurities, and he leaped, landing as softly as he could. A mouse was not far from him, chewing on some nut they must have found since they were rather close to the neighborhood.

Maybe he’d be able to catch it! Enthusiasm bubbled in his chest and he approached it as quiet as he could.

All senses were in tandem as they worked for him, told him what to do and how to act, as if he had done it millions of times before.

Rusty, remembering the interesting time from his dreams, put the center of his weight onto his haunches, preparing to spring forwards as he leaned downwards in the perfect creeping position he remembered, silent paws snaking forwards to get a better hold on what was going to be his food, perhaps his first taste of mouse…

No. He couldn’t get too cocky. There were other times to think about the juicy taste of flesh under his teeth, one that he longed every night he stared into the distant shadows of the woods and feel confined down to the same place over and over. Gritting his teeth, he continued to step forwards, prepared to strike.

But he had waited too long.

He bit back a frustrated hiss as the mouse picked up scent of him - or perhaps something else concerning - and raced forwards, heading for the place it would normally rest in for the night. Rusty didn’t have time, he was going to miss his meal, and he instinctively dove for it without thinking.

A twig snapped.

That was most definitely the snap of reality (no pun intended, hopefully) that he needed, realizing he wasn’t alone.

A figure exploded forwards out of the darkness, slamming into his torso and nearly sending him flying. It couldn’t have been the mouse, and Rusty let out a sharp gasp of pain as he was thrown backwards into the soft grass beneath his paws.

Heaving to his paws and groaning with the pain swelling up in his chest, he hissed something inaudible under his breath, eyes darting around as he searched for his attacker, senses screaming at him to run. He internally fought against them, reminding himself he needed to stand his ground if he wanted to make it out alive.

The figure that had previously attacked him was staring right at him. Two strikingly yellow eyes swirled around him in rhythmic, graceful and well-trained movement, and for a moment that was the only thing he could see. Taking a step backwards, he refused to run, instead opening his jaws to release a hiss. It was the most intimidating he could be, anyway, showing he was definitely going to stand his ground.

The cat in front of him stopped in his tracks, obviously bracing himself to lash out again. Though he couldn’t make out much of his pelt, he noticed he was about the size of him, just much fluffier with a coat of long, thick fur.

His attacker bolted forwards, hitting him. Rusty heard a sickening crack, which might’ve been from when he hit the nettles. Pain exploded in his side, and he began to kick upwards with a yowl to twist out of their grip as they fastened onto his back, slowly moving their jaws to meet his throat, the description dangerously close to the one in his dream. He didn’t have time to think actual thoughts, he just had to improvise on his every move.

Thinking fast, Rusty twisted out of their grip by rolling over and quickly crushing them into the bush, hopping off and unsheathing his claws with another low growl. He paced around the bush, waiting for their next move.

Claws glinting in the pale moonlight, he gouged them straight into the cat’s shoulder, pulling them out while tearing at their skin. Rusty _himself,_ the one that had made the assault, was surprised about his own extremities, stumbling back as the cat yelped with pain and stared at him, yellow eyes round.

They stared at each other for a long moment, before the cat shifted in the darkness. Rusty got in a battle stance, ready to take on them again, knowing that he was at the advantage. But to his surprise, that wasn’t exactly what happened at all.

A small gray kitten stepped out of the darkness, yellow eyes staring him down, wide and surprised. He had an innocent look on his face, which slowly turned into an excited smile, and he leaned forwards to study him for a moment. Rusty hissed and jumped backwards, another growl bubbling in his throat.

His attacker then sat down and began to lick his paw, all of the aggression gone. Flattening his fur, he looked at him with playful eyes, ignoring the obvious wound. Beneath the shaggy fur was definitely a powerful, stocky build, so Rusty didn’t dare start anything with him again.

“Hi, kittypet!” The tom mewed cheerily, bouncing up and down in his spot with obvious excitement. His attacker sheathed his claws, acting like nothing had happened. “You put up quite a fight for a twoleg pet and- oh, owie!”

Rusty watched as the unusual wild cat reared forwards, grabbing one shoulder with his paw. He flapped open his mouth to speak, but ended up shutting it and looking at him with confusion. The gray cat was wincing, one eye closed and shoulders bunched up, pressure on his left shoulder with one paw to stop the bleeding.

He ended up having a swell of pride at the sight of the cat, but not in a sadistic way. Rusty had actually clawed someone and made a wild cat feel pain- ones that Smudge had rumored to ‘rip his guts out and eat them,’ which he still found pretty funny how seriously his neighbor had taken that statement.

It didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t feel some kind of concern for this cat, so he outstretched his paw with a concerned expression. “Uh… sorry? Are you okay?”

“No, no, I’m good!” The tom reassured, bouncing up again with a glimmer in his eyes, wincing at the movement. “Let’s continue with the formal talk, nothing my medicine cat can’t fix up! Anyway. You put up quite a good fight for a twoleg pet.”

Rusty cringed backwards, giving another growl. He felt a bit of disappointment that the fight was over, he had to admit that he was a bit of a reckless adrenaline junkie. He tended to do stupid things to add some light to his usually boring life, and this was most likely no exception, right? Or was he genuinely curious?

“We could fight again,” Rusty’s voice came out aggressively, so it sounded more like a warning. The threat had dissipated, but he wanted to do something other than talk. “Or I could just leave, you _know…_ ”

“Nuh-uh!” The tom scooted forwards and put one paw on his shoulder, eyes sparkling with determination. “Listen, you don’t come here, try to hunt one of the mice that I, the great Graypaw, was going for, fight me, and then leave!”

Rusty’s eyes narrowed and he stared at him awkwardly for a long moment. He pulled away with a sarcastic expression. “But that’s what I’m doing.”

“Well you gotta stop. You’re dealing with a future warrior of ThunderClan here, you just can't leave me and forget this never happened!” Graypaw protested, voice pitchy and whiny. Rusty would have said that it was immature, but he was being immature and standoffish, so he’d be hypocritical.

But, he had to admit he was curious. “ThunderClan?” He asked, voice a bit deep as he heaved with exhaustion. That fight had definitely made him tired, so he had to be ready for an attack at any direction in the wild, right?

Graypaw looked proud of getting him to listen. “Yeah! I’ll get into that later. Anyway, what are you doing in the forest? You know it’s dangerous in here, right? Oh, you were lucky I found you, any other cat in my Clan would have butchered ya!”

Rusty narrowed his eyes. “Hooray, I would have been butchered.”

“Lighten up, kittypet!” Graypaw grinned toothily, “I’ve changed now, see? I’m not gonna hurt you right now, stop being so angry!”

“You jumped onto me and shoved me into a bush.”

“I’ve changed!”

“You did it a few minutes ago.”

Graypaw looked confused, probably at what a minute was, before he sprung up like he hadn’t said anything about that. “I didn’t think it was really worth hurtin’ ya, anyway! I was going light, ‘cos you’re not from any of the other Clans.”

“Other Clans?” This cat was speaking nonsense. Rusty looked him with obvious confusion, causing Graypaw to tilt his head to the side, confused that he didn’t understand. ThunderClan? Other Clans? Kittypets?

The kit gasped with mock frustration. His tail whipped back and forth, ears perked. “Wait, you haven’t heard about the four Clans that hunt around here?! The ones that try to steal prey from around here, you don’t even know our name? We’re your neighbors! They come to take everything from our territory, even if its ours! That’s why I’m training to become a warrior and all, I’m gonna take ‘em down!”

The warnings from Smudge and Jake and Princess were just a distant thunder in his mind. He was starting to calm down when talking to this cat, he acted like he had known him for a long time, like they were friends joking about things. It was odd, because he had never met a wild cat yet he wasn’t afraid of them. “Wait, so, you’re not a warrior?”

Graypaw giggled. “Oh, why? Did you think I was? I’m too tiny to be a warrior! I won’t be a real warrior in forever, and it _sucks._ I had to wait for six whole moons before I could become a warrior in the first place!”

Yikes. Harsh.

Rusty sighed.

“I should be heading back.”

Graypaw groaned angrily. “I gotta give you a scar, or Lionheart’s gonna kill me! He’ll need to know why I have a wound and the smell of kittypet on me, he’ll be so mad. It’s either going to be really funny or I’m gonna be really scared-”

“I get it. Just say you scarred me,” Rusty protested. “See ya.”

Graypaw didn’t replied, which caused him to stop in his tracks and look at the warrior-in-training with confusion. The gray tom sniffed the air, slowly opening his mouth, and he looked at him desperately. “I smell Bluestar and Lionheart. Kittypet, you need to go _now!”_

 _I don’t smell anything-_ Rusty opened his mouth to respond with a snarky comment other than that, but the words died on his tongue. Graypaw attempted to shove him back into the nettle bush, but rustling from far away made him stop and sigh with obvious anger.

A voice menacingly rang out from behind him. “Graypaw, who is this?”

Both of them pivoted around, Graypaw looking more visibly nervous at the sight of a russian blue she-cat standing over them. The detail Rusty found himself focusing was the long scar on her shoulder, and then eventually her icy blue eyes and silver muzzle below it. She was scary to see.

Her smooth coat shone in the moonlight, and she looked down at them, gracefully strolling out of the undergrowth. Beside her, a handsome golden tom followed her with a thick mane of fur around his neck.

“Bluestar!” Graypaw explained, pressing himself to the ground in a bow. At the sight of the golden tom, he basically pressed his chin against the grass.

Wondering if it was necessary, Rusty copied his movements with obvious confusion, but didn’t speak up. He just stared with round eyes, but he didn’t feel afraid. With Graypaw there, he felt like he was defended, somehow.

Graypaw looked at him with wide eyes. “L-Lionheart.”

“You shouldn’t be so close to the twoleg place,” Lionheart chided, though there was a glimmer of enthusiasm in his green eyes, “I appreciate your rebellious spirit, but I told you directly to trail around the borders of the forest, not follow kittypets.”

“I know…”

“You need to follow my orders, Graypaw. You could have gotten into serious trouble. Some of the kittypets can be seriously aggressive,” Lionheart continued, a bit quieter than before, but he still seemed angry. Or, possibly worried for his warrior-in-training.

“I know…”

“I should have set you with the rest of your brigade. Perhaps you wouldn’t have run into this cat. Do not do this again.”

“I know…”

Bluestar’s piercing eyes met his, and Rusty was overwhelmed by the leader-like aura she gave off. It made him sink deeply into it, knowing he couldn’t fight her authority. She had so many cats on her side, from how Graypaw described it, and he wouldn’t want to mess with such a force, right?

“Who is this?” Bluestar questioned.

“I know…” Graypaw began, before perking his head, flushing red with realization. He probably hadn’t even been listening to Lionheart. “Oh, don’t mind him! This is… um…”

“Rusty.”

“This is Rusty, he’s just some kittypet that went into the forest, so I battled him! Now I got a cool scratch on my shoulder, like yours. Don’t mind him, he’s not a warrior from the other Clans, not a threat at all!”

_Not a threat at all? Ha! I gave you that scratch!_

“Scars aren’t something to be proud of,” Bluestar replied, before looking directly at Rusty once again. “You are… quite good for a fighter, Rusty.”

“Really?” Rusty started, before biting back the rest of his statement. It made him feel prideful, maybe he was worth something to these cats… “Wait, how did you know?” By the look on Graypaw’s face, he was wondering the same.

“We watched the fight. You were both skilled for your ages,” Bluestar nodded at Graypaw, who had basically pressed his whole face into the ground with confused whimpers and shivering paws. “You handled an intruder well, Graypaw.”

The apprentice looked at his leader with a pleased expression.

“It’s good to finally see you out here, Rusty. Occasionally, while patrolling the borders, I’ve seen you out here. I’m pleased with what you’ve been able to pull off on your only night here. Not to mention, you are quite skilled at hunting… for a beginner.”

“Bluestar,” Lionheart calmly insisted, “This is a kittypet. We should send him home before he does any more damage.”

Rusty frowned. “Send me home? I just came out here to try out hunting for some fun, I promised I’d be back by sunhigh, I’m harmless-”

Bluestar’s eyes widened, filling with sudden rage and anger. Her hackles raised, her calm demeanor broke into something angry. “You’re not harmless, kittypet! You are stealing prey from our territory when there’s hardly enough to go around! You may hunt for sport, but we hunt to survive. Maybe if you didn’t live such a soft, overfed life, you would know that!”

By the look in her eyes, she definitely wasn’t happy with him. The warriors loomed over them angrily, Graypaw genuinely looking horrified, and Firepaw’s pride dissolved. He spoke up before anything got worse.

“Okay,” Rusty admitted. “I-I understand. I’ll leave your territory, you need food, right? I don’t want to bother your hunting.”

Bluestar’s eyes flashed with surprise, but approval as well. She stepped back with a light, amused smile, and spoke out again. “You are an unusual kittypet, Rusty. Come on, stand up, you two.”

Graypaw hopped to his paws, and soon enough Rusty followed his actions, though slower and more exhausted. The day really had been quite exhausting, these cats were wild-blooded, this was their life, and he felt selfish for it.

Had he been living pampered his whole life while these Clans raged on and fought and hunted? Was this what he had been deprived of his whole life? Was this what he had always taken interest in, was this why his father’s stories had reeled him in?

Bluestar exchanged glances with Lionheart, and they looked at him once again. Firepaw sighed, speaking outwards. “Wait, uh, is life here really so hard?” He wanted to know the truth. If he was deprived of it, it’d never leave him.

“Our territory doesn’t cover much of the forest, only a portion we fought hard for. We compete with the other Clans, ShadowClan, RiverClan, and WindClan, for what we have, which means constant battle over borders and landmarks. Newleaf is also late, which means prey is very scarce.”

“Are you all warriors, then?” This was actually quite interesting, though the vague responses didn’t give much hint.

Lionheart replied instead of Bluestar this time. “Many of us, but not all. Some are two young, too old, or are busy nursing their kits, or are healers, meaning they are not able to hunt and fight for the Clan.”

“You all live together like that?” It… actually sounded much better than what he had. As fun as his neighbors were, he was pampered and didn’t get interaction outside of his hue-man, which was always busy slapping colored water on something called paper, so she never had much time for him unless she was filling his bowl or petting him when he approached, sometimes even playing with him with a stupid stick with something on the end of it. Even those times were rare.

Bluestar’s eyes softened. She looked at him with surprising warmth, all of that rage and pent up anger gone as she regarded him. With a smile, she responded. “Rusty, perhaps you should find out these things by yourself.”

Wait-

“Would you like to join ThunderClan?”

What?

Rusty was so surprised that he forgot how to speak, frozen in his spot with unblinking eyes as he tried to comprehend that question. He had just fought one of their warriors-in-training and now here he was, being invited into an ultra-powerful group of wild cats who had spent their whole lives fighting.

It sounded scary. But kind of amazing at the same time. He let out a series of confused whines as a shiver ran through his spine. This whole situation felt awkwardly surreal, he couldn’t believe it, he didn’t know if he should say yes or no- he wanted to, but his _family._ Princess and Jake and Smudge- the cats he had grown up with!

Bluestar continued. “If you did, you’d be able to train with Graypaw, in his brigade, with your own mentor, working alongside many talented and powerful cats to hunt and fight. You’re a bit soft, but you’ll come to learn quite quickly of your duties, if taught right.”

“Wait!” Graypaw let out a shriek of protest, voice mingled with confusion. “I don’t get it? I thought kittypets couldn’t be warriors ‘cos they didn’t have warrior blood or something like that! He doesn’t have warrior blood!”

The leader’s eyes clouded with thought. “Rusty is… a special case. We need more warriors than ever, Graypaw, so we’ll have to jump to some surprising lengths in order to fulfill our needs. Rusty is talented, he can manage.”

She fell silent, and Lionheart picked up the pieces as she thought about it silently, continuing her monologue. “We are offering you simple training, though if you become a warrior, that’s all up to you. Dedication is important for Clan life. If you make the decision to join among our ranks, you would be leaving behind your kittypet times with your twolegs and devoting yourself solely to the Clan. You cannot have a paw in each world.”

Rusty continued gaping, realizing that he really had to discuss it with his family, take some time to ponder that question for a long time. Lionheart stood, clearly done with his speech, and gave a kind look towards Bluestar.

“Let’s not waste anymore time here, Bluestar. We’re supposed to patrol the ShadowClan border with Ravenpaw and the others. Tigerclaw will wonder what has become of us,” Lionheart began to slip back into the bushes.

“WAIT!” Rusty cut them off, surprised by his own outburst. Graypaw hadn’t budged from his spot, but Bluestar and Lionheart looked back at him with obvious curiosity. Stumbling on his words for a moment, he gulped at their steely gazes.

“Can I think about it?!” Rusty pleaded.

Bluestar seemed to realize in a hasty moment on what he was implying and nodded slowly. “Yes. Lionheart will return at sunhigh tomorrow, you can talk to your loved ones and think about it at home.”

Bluestar made a flicking motion with her tail, disappearing into the undergrowth with Lionheart at her heels. Graypaw gaped, before looking at him.

“See ya later, Rusty!” He chirped, rushing off after them.

Rusty stared after him, eyebrows furrowed in thought. As the sun began to rise for a new day, he turned and rushed back towards home, the scent of Clan cats clear behind him and clung to his fur. He had a day to talk to his loved ones again- that was it, and he knew for a fact that it was supposed to feel wrong that he was leaving them behind.

So why did it feel so right, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one is super similar to the original first chapter. I gave Smudge the "concerned friend" route and changed a bit of Rusty's personality to be more reckless. Otherwise, it's going to start to diverge like... next chapter, haha! What's a brigade? You'll see...


	4. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rusty talks to his family and makes a journey to camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one's a bit unfairly short ;;^.^ The next one is going to be MUCH longer.

“You want to do WHAT?!” Princess cried.

He was curled up outside the clipped grass of his garden with his father and sister sitting next to him. Jake, a striped ginger tabby with similar color to his (though his pelt was much darker, Rusty’s resembled more of the color of fire) sat there motionlessly, lost in thought, while Princess seemed rather furious and confused and  _ surprised  _ at that statement, perhaps she found is bold that he wanted to leave everything he had ever known to chase his dreams of the wild.

The day was warm with early budding of nature and flowers, surely spring was arriving on the day his decision held the most utmost importance for the direction of his life. The sun was just rising among the distant green treeline, so he’d have to make his decision rather soon or Lionheart would disregard him.

“Listen,” Rusty protested, “They gave me a perfect offer for a perfect life. I had another mouse dream last night, I think its really telling me something this time.”

Tears budded in Princess’ big green eyes, and she promptly blinked them away to stare at him angrily. “So you’re just going to up and leave your family to chase your dreams without a thought of what we’re going to do about it?”

“I did want to know your opinion,” Rusty muttered, “That’s why I came to you. Isn’t it kind of like a hue-man thing to like… leave the family to chase dreams? Didn’t the hue-man kitten do that in your family, sis?”

Princess frowned, clawing at the dirt. “He’s all grown up now, he don’t got time for me. Jake! Dad! Please,  _ can you convince him?”  _ She pleaded loudly, eyes welling with tears, but they didn’t dare spill. Princess was strong like that, Rusty wished he’d be able to share such courage, but his was more physical than hers, which was more emotional. “I don’t want to lose him. We- we already lost Luna and Tommy and Filou to other hue-mans coming to take them away, we’re going to lose everyone-”

Jake looked at Rusty with narrowed eyes and a slack expression, completely serious instead of his natural humor, and spoke quietly, just barely loud enough for him to hear him, “I’ve met Clan cats like yours before, but not from ThunderClan. They’re kind when you get to know ‘em, I’m happy you’re having an experience. But joining them? I’m not sure if that’s the right way to go, it’s a risk for you to take.”

“You’ve met Clan cats?” Princess whispered, eyes round. “That’s… amazing… Are your stories about them true?”

“No, but the woods are still full of danger. I told you those stories so you wouldn’t wander in, I didn’t want any of my youngsters getting hurt at such a young age, did I? It’s a big world out there,” Jake smirked and looked at Rusty again to hear him out.

Rusty’s heart swelled with pride. His dad listened and understood!

Rusty lowered his head, staring at the ground. “Trust me, dad, I know. I’ve done a lot of soul searching about it myself and I’m still torn. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime dream of mine, I don’t think I can just leave it behind.”

Princess looked horrified at their conversation, eyes darting between the two ginger toms with her mouth agape. She didn’t seem to believe it, ears pinned down to the back of her head. Her tail was shivering, and she seemed to be trying not to cry then and there. Rusty could understand, it was how he felt when he lost most of his siblings too.

He… was going to miss them.

“Then don’t,” Jake responded, patting his head with one paw, “I can’t stop you anyway. You have a right to live out your dreams in the wild, if that’s where you want to go. Your hue-man will be pretty sad, at first, but that’ll be gone after a while when she… gets a new cat, maybe? More company for us.”

“What?!” Princess jumped up with big eyes, “You’re just going to let him go out there and get himself murdered?! Rusty, do you know how much bigger they probably are?! You couldn’t take a kit in there!”

“But I did.”

Princess looked like she was about the faint. “Is that where you got all of those scratches? I thought they just attacked you as a warning or something. You fought one of them!?” She spoke all in one breath so quickly, it was actually kind of funny.

Rusty purred, mostly to himself. “Its okay, you two. I’ve made up my mind, I’m going to join their Clan. I can’t come back, so… I’m gonna miss you guys. I don’t need to be convinced of any change, this is my final choice.”

He stepped forwards and nuzzled Jake, who whispered to him, “I’m proud of you, kit. Achieve big things.”

Princess jumped to his torso and nuzzled his shoulder protectively, lying her head on his chest with a long, drawn-out cat hug. Rusty purred and licked the top of her head, backing away. “Seriously, if I get a chance, I’ll visit. I’m right next door.”

Princess glanced at him with mock anger. “You better.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Rusty rushed down his garden and leaped on the fence once again, balancing gracefully.

“I will!” She called after him as he jumped down, sinking his claws into the grass. He felt bad for not saying anything to Smudge, but was cut off as his voice interrupted his line of thought. It was basically just like yesterday, balanced badly on the fence.

Speak of the devil!

He looked back at him with a solemn expression. “Oh, Smudge, hi.”

“Rusty, you’re covered in scratches!” He jumped upwards, scrabbling against the wood with wide eyes. “Did you hunt anything while you were in the woods last night? Did anything hunt you, are you okay?”

He chuckled nervously, deciding to stick with the truth. “I… met some wild cats. Got into a little squabble, but eventually… they asked me to join my group, and… I told them I’d think about it, and I’m going now to accept them.”

His whiskers switched. Smudge narrowed his eyes with obvious disbelief flashing in them, and he turned his head away to hide his expression.

“I’m not lying. I’m leaving now,” Rusty replied calmly.

Smudge looked confused, shaking his head quickly. “What?! Rusty, hasn’t Princess already yelled at you about this? I could hear her from inside my house, and that’s like a block away! You’re gonna get hurt!”

Rusty’s eyes softened. “It’s a bittersweet goodbye, I’ll just be… moving! Changing, I guess. I’m going to visit a ton, okay? I’ll be getting a life that’s better than me in ThunderClan. This isn’t the last of me. Get your fat butt down here and give me a hug, Smudge. Might be the last time you see me for a while!”

Smudge obliged, hopping off the fence and basically exploding onto him, hugging and nuzzling him tightly. Chuckling, Rusty laid there, burying his face into Smudge’s fluffy chest, before ripping away out of his grip, fur tangled and messy.

“Seriously, I hope Princess gave you a good talk-down,” The black and white tom chided, “This is so stupid, but I’m gonna be supportive, okay?”

Rusty purred. “No need to announce it.”

“Just did.”

“I’m really rubbing off on you,” Rusty laughed, brushing his tail over Smudge’s shoulder. “It’s good to have a friend like you, Smudge. Don’t forget me while I’m gone!” He then raced down to the woods, not looking back.

“I won’t!” Smudge called in response. “Don’t you dare die out there either, I won’t allow ya! My blessings to you!”

And with that, as his best friend’s blessings began to fall deaf on his ears as they faded away, Rusty once again slinked into the silent shadows of the woods, gaping at the beauty they held in the daylight. 

Birds chirped in the trees. Claw Marks from cats were engraved in the bark, most likely for different reasons. It felt like more than a landmark for the Clan, it felt important, it felt like how a territory was supposed to be. Despite supposedly being at the edge of the territory, the foreign scent of the Clan was strong and tangy on his nose, which caused him to instinctively recoil at the smell. They  _ marked  _ this territory, and he was intruding on it. It felt wrong, but at the same time he reminded himself that one day he’d know this place just as these cats would, and the scent would mean nothing to him.

Pride swelled in his heart. He was going to be a warrior-in-training of this Clan, he promised himself. He was going to take steps that no housecat had ever taken before and tell stories nobody lived to tell. Not caring that he was probably getting ahead of himself, he took a few reckless steps further into the darkness of the forest.

Though dappled shadows covered the forest floor, Rusty stepped into a patch of sunlight, purring at the warmth that hit his fur. With it, sunlight reflected off of his ginger pelt, causing him to look like he was glowing. Even then, basking in the sunlight felt nice, and he instinctively licked his paw to clean himself, brushing it behind his ears, and waited impatiently, flexing his claws.

He almost had expected a shape in the darkness. Perking his ears, he sniffed the air with obvious uncertainty, lowering his head and blinking with confusion. Lionheart’s shape was usually much bigger than whoever this was, but in another blink of an eye, they were gone… an attacker, maybe?

“I know you’re there,” Rusty mewed nervously. “C-Come out and show yourself, or, I’ll- um… attack you!”

That wasn’t good, was it?

The bushes rustled, a pair of unblinking green eyes staring at him, and Lionheart strided out of the undergrowth, tail flicking from side to side. His expression was warm and fatherly, holding no aggression, just as Jake’s. “Good eye, kit. Though relying on your sense of smell may do better for you in the future.”

Ears swiveling around, Rusty narrowed his eyes with focus and sniffed the air once again. “Graypaw and Bluestar aren’t with you… but there’s another cat, right?” He looked at the warrior for confirmation.

The movement in the bushes around the clearing came to a halt, and a spindly cat leaped out next to Lionheart, towering over him. He was lean and well-muscled, long-bodied with strong haunches and long claws. His thin fur was perfectly clean, a perfect pure-white, and his eyes were unnaturally gold beyond anything Rusty had ever seen. He looked like a cat from one of those shows that owners took them to, so this was definitely much different… he was… actually kind of pretty.

Rusty’s face flushed with embarrassment at that thought. Not wanting to think about it, he replaced that emotion with aggression, unsheathing his claws with his tail lashing angrily, pupils in slits. He tried to look at scary as possible, but the larger tom looked amused, purring down at him as he soaked in the sunlight, looking magnificent as ever.

“Relax, kit,” Lionheart cooed, whiskers twitching with amusement. “We are not here to fight you. We are only following orders to take you to our camp.” His tail moved, pointing to the new cat, eyes sparkling with gratitude that the pretty tom was taking it so calmly, “This is Whitestorm. He was curious about meeting you today.”

_ Curious!  _ Rusty hardly could contain himself as Whitestorm leaned forwards and sniffed his shoulder questioningly, golden eyes meeting his. Breath hitching, he took another nervous pawstep backwards.

Whitestorm gave a look of amusement, stepping away with the tip of his tail twitching. He bowed his head respectfully, glancing at Rusty as if attempting to read him.

“Hello,” Whitestorm purred, looking down at him now. His voice was sweet and silky as velvet, and it warmed his heart. He hated but loved his infatuation for this cat, though it was probably just some kind of celebrity crush. “You must be Rusty. It is nice to meet you, Bluestar has told me quite a lot about you.”

“A-Ah!” Rusty dipped his head in greeting, looking extremely unsatisfying. “Nice to meet you, Whitestorm. I’m, uh, Rusty- but you already knew that.”

The white cat’s whiskers twitched with amusement. Lionheart quickly picked up on Rusty’s thought process, by the look in his eyes, and turned back to the treeline to leave the clearing. “Alright. We mustn’t waste time, if we want to get back to camp before the evening patrols.”

Rusty looked at him, sheathing his claws. “But the sun just came up!” He questioned, pawing at the dirt and feeling the soft grass.

“The territory is quite large, kit,” Lionheart purred, pushing into the bushes once again, and he was off.

Whitestorm glanced at him warily, before following after, moving in a motion that made his muscles shine beneath his pelt. Rusty didn’t have time to swoon, he just followed after. Crashing through the bushes, he was the opposite of graceful, but he pressed on with all of his strength that he could muster.

It turned out that the forest was confusing.

If he wasn’t flanking Whitestorm and Lionheart, he knew he’d get lost. The only way he had a sense of direction other than the two cats were probably the random changes in scents wherever he went. Random clearings with paw marks all over, trees with carved out symbols, and even at one point a small stream that he had to cross… oh no.

Lionheart and Whitestorm had quickly and effortlessly hopped over it, staring at Rusty to copy their movement. It was too wide for his small, slightly chubby stature, so he braced himself, bunching up his muscles, before leaping and scrabbling against the sand on the other side. Lionheart furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed him by the scruff, helping him and setting him down right next to them.

Shaking a few droplets of water off his tail, he flushed with shame. Lionheart’s steely gaze softened, tail sweeping against the ground, and he hared forwards once again, not waiting for Rusty at all. 

_ At least they gave me time. _

Padding after, he broke into a sprint once again into the undergrowth, paws slapping powerfully against the grass. He was already panting with the effort since he wasn’t used to forest life, and there were several small scratches from scratching his shoulders against nettles or the barks of trees. These cats must have been used to it, he realized, by the way they knew every step they took like they had taken it hundreds of times before.

It made him… embarrassed, actually.

He was basically racing down unfamiliar land with a gorgeous warrior much larger and older than him and a fatherly lion-like cat who he found kind of scary at the same time. When saying that out loud, it sounded like something from a story that his dad used to tell, even with some of the similar descriptions.

If he had told Smudge this a few days ago, his friend would have laughed and jokingly pushed him off the fence. Rusty would have laughed back, nudging him as they play fought in his hue-man…  _ twoleg’s  _ garden. He needed to get used to how they said things if he wanted to fit in at all.

Rusty knew he was going to think about them quite a lot, despite the fact that he was living up the offer of a lifetime. It wasn’t exactly easy to leave behind what you loved for something new, even if it sounded pleasurable.

Couldn’t turn back now, not like he was having second thoughts.

“We are here,” Whitestorm commented, “The main entrance of the camp. Can you smell ThunderClan?”

Blinking with thought, Rusty rose his muzzle to take a curious sniff, opening his jaws to feel it on his tongue simultaneously. Something strong flooded through his senses, which caused him to take a leap backwards and nearly crash right into Lionheart.

Lionheart chuckled, nudging his shoulders, whiskers twitching with amusement. “No worry, kit. It is a strong smell, though soon you will get used to it once you leave and enter camp on the daily. Follow me, and stay close to both of us.”

Rusty tipped his head to the side. “Stay close? Why?”

Whitestorm piped up once again, tail flicking back and forth. “Many of the cats are not used to newcomers. If you stray away further, you may be attacked out of suspicions. Be careful in camp.”

That sounded reasonable. Rusty dipped his head as Lionheart stalked into the bushes, tail flicking back and forth in a rhythmic motion. Perking his ears, he found it as his cue, and followed after, keeping his muzzle low and tail to the ground, brushing against the leaves of the ferns that sheltered it.

There was moss beneath his paws, and the scent of many unusual cats flooding into his smells. It was obvious that this was indeed the main entrance, if not the only one, and it didn’t relax him one bit. It felt foreign.

Feeling Whitestorm pad after him calmed him down a bit more. He had two protectors now that would make sure nobody killed him in there, right? Since he was walking slower, his breathing evened, and his nervous steps turned into long confident strides, trying to look less nervous than he actually was, even if fear scent clung to his fur.

A purr rumbled from Lionheart as the ferns began to part, and the bigger tom shoved out into the main camp. Rusty couldn’t help but cower for a moment, lowering to the ground, all of that fake confidence lost. He gaped, eyes wide, before Whitestorm nudged him forwards.

Trying not to dwell on the contact, he took a deep breath, taking a few more steps into camp, and opened them to internally greet his new home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I have a question I'm asking y'all.  
> Would you be interested in a Discord server for WR where there's updates, previews, and discussion about characters? I can host it if enough of y'all are interested. Please comment with your thoughts on it, thanks !!!


	5. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rusty gets initiated, learns about the cat gods, and meets his brigade.

The camp was gorgeous.

The sun at this point blazed overhead, which seemed to set the clearing to burst with life. Multiple unusual cats were bathing in the sun, sleek and beautiful, muscles well-built from hunting and fighting.

As for the clearing itself, green grass shone in the light, outlined perfectly by brambles. In the middle was a large rock, jutted outwards towards the sky with a hole in it that had a bramble entrance. By the way it was treated, Rusty guessed it was a den for a cat of importance; perhaps the leader, or maybe the healer?

Outlined around the brambles were perfectly thick thorn bushes which had been picked of all their thorns. One den in particular seemed to be a fallen tree that had been sitting there for centuries, covered in claw marks and moss to signify that it was in use. Another den was supposedly a crack in the stone walls of one side of the camp where the figure of an unusual cat was running back and forth, before slipping out to leave.

Rusty didn’t get a good look at the black molly before she quickly slipped past them, eyeing him softly, and left out of the camp. Lionheart purred and sat down, as if done with all of the walking for the day.

“Welcome to ThunderClan camp,” Whitestorm spoke behind them, slender body sitting next to his. In the eyes of all of these pretty beautiful cats, he looked more average, though still admirable. “The she-cat you just saw was Spottedleaf, our medicine cat.”

It clicked in Rusty’s mind, and he nodded. “Where’s Bluestar and Graypaw?”

Whitestorm smiled at him, long tail flicking. “To guess, Graypaw would be in the apprentice’s den and Bluestar in the leader’s den.”

“Oh… where is that?”

“I’ll explain when you’re initiated. We should head to the leader’s den anyway, since we’ll need to speak to Bluestar in order to host an official ceremony for you and notify the Clan you’ll be joining our ranks,” Whitestorm swerved his head over to the direction of the big rock and hared in that direction.

Lionheart didn’t follow, only nodded at him. Rusty gulped, and nodded, stepping after. He felt careful with every hesitant step, like it hurt to breathe air.

When they arrived, out came another warrior. He squeaked, backing up, ears pinned to the back of his head. Whitestorm chuckled.

“Redtail,” He greeted.

Rusty looked up warily to see a pretty molly standing over him. She smiled down in his direction, bushy tail flicking carefully back and forth in greeting. Rusty noticed that she was really pretty… which really was giving him a lot of personal confusion. Everyone in this Clan was so beautiful!

“This is Redtail,” Whitestorm whispered in his ear, “He’s one of the senior warriors in ThunderClan, and the Clan respects him highly, so so should you.”

Rusty hadn’t heard him incorrectly.

_ He? _

This cat was-  _ oh.  _ He pieced it together quite quickly as Redtail turned around, as if noticing he had realized what was up with the tom, and slipped into a different den without another word. Whitestorm hadn’t even commented on him leaving.

“So he’s-?”

The white tom didn’t look down at him and said warmly, “Some cats dislike what gender they were born as. Some decide to change. Redtail isn’t the first, and he definitely will not be the last. There are other cats in ThunderClan that do this as well.”

Rusty flushed like it was obvious, nodding. “Could…” The offer sounded stupid, the words bitter in his mouth, but it was too late anyway. He couldn’t have trailed off so quickly. “Could you point them out for me?”

There was no venom in Whitestorm’s voice. “Yes, Rusty. There is another cat like this named Ravenpaw in ThunderClan. If you are initiated properly, you will meet him very soon,” He stated calmly.

Rusty opened his jaws to speak, but Whitestorm was already slipping into the supposed leader’s den. Perking his ears, he bounded after, then mentally clawed himself for acting so excited. He had to act formal, right?

He slipped after Whitestorm and into the den, and heard the tom speaking- “What was your conversation with Redtail about?”

Bluestar’s voice sounded in response, sickly sweet and calm, “Our borders with RiverClan. Sunningrocks, mostly. He’s been stressed ever since our recent loss, for a good reason. More concerned than Thistleclaw, even.”

“Interesting. Are there any news on it?”

Bluestar hummed. “They have been marking the borders more. Stormstar must be angry with us for our more recent battle,” She said, before supposedly dodging the subject as a whole. “Rusty, you may enter if you’d like.”

He nervously slipped into the den, instantly cowering at the place. It was dark and eerily quiet, Whitestorm sitting with his tail curled around his paws, Bluestar comfortingly lounging like she didn’t have a care in the world, though there was something deeper in her eyes that Rusty couldn’t make out, like a past trauma that was burrowed in her soul.

Rusty gulped as two pairs of eyes landed on him. “S-So… how does the whole intiation thing work?” He offered with clear confusion.

Bluestar chuckled. “Judging by your age, barely above a kit, you’ll be an apprentice. You’ll need to get rid of your collar, wash off some of that kittypet scent, and you’ll also be announced to the whole Clan before you’re officially introduced to your brigade.”

Curiosity was getting the best of him, so Rusty asked, “Wait… what’s a brigade? Is… is it something important?”

Bluestar chuckled, standing up and stretching herself out with a kind glimmer in her eyes. “It’s the group of apprentices that currently are learning to become warriors. The point of a brigade is like a family unit. Even as warriors, they work and train together, and get apprentices together, usually.”

That made a whole lot of sense. Bluestar slipped out of the den and out into the scorching summer sun of the camp. Whitestorm gestured Rusty to move and followed in her pawsteps, with Rusty nervously in the back.

Outside, cats were already clustering around the den as Bluestar leaped onto the rock she had been under before. So her den was a cave, and she used this… for meetings? He was trying to contemplate this, so he didn’t notice when Whitestorm drifted towards him.

“Follow her up there, kit,” Whitestorm whispered.

Rusty obliged. Scrabbling up the stone, obviously less trained than Bluestar, he balanced himself, claws scraping against the rock as he stood right next to the molly, who draped her tail over him.

“All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather around the highrock for a Clan meeting!” Bluestar’s voice rang out. It sounded way louder and commanding than it usually was, notably, perhaps it was a leader thing.

More cats began to walk out of their respective dens. Rusty noticed Graypaw, who visibly looked excited and prodded a sandy she-cat, who hissed and ducked away from him. Perhaps another one of the… “apprentices” from his future brigade? Maybe.

Bluestar’s cold and calculating gaze swept over the group of cats, and when she perhaps realized that everyone was here, she continued, “This tom, Rusty, has discovered the truth of the woods and is interested in joining ThunderClan. Once he is cleaned up from his past origins, he will be welcomed and accepted.”

A voice piped up from all of the dissonant chatter, a large black tom with angry yellow eyes and darker stripes, “What are you talking about?!” The tom hissed out, “This cat, ‘Rusty,’ is a kittypet. Moonstar knows, he’s going to go back to his twolegs as soon as he’s done here, and he’ll just leech off all of our prey!”

Graypaw perked up, mouth flapping open and closed like he was confused on what to say, but eventually he hissed out a few venomous words that set a pang of surprise into Rusty’s heart, “We don’t have enough warriors to fight like this…”

Darkstripe turned on him, hackles raising, unsheathing his claws, “What was that,  _ rat?  _ I couldn’t hear you!”

Graypaw’s eyes were dark, face grim and shadowed as he leaned forwards to speak to Darkstripe personally, but Bluestar cut them off, “Graypaw! Darkstripe! Now is not time for fighting, now is time to celebrate we have the possibility of more warriors.”

Both of them huffed and turned away from each other. Bluestar looked down at him. Rusty was fazed by that, Graypaw had stood up for him! Well, from what he heard, wasn’t that what a brigade did? His eyes clouded with thought.

Bluestar looked towards the sky. “In order to complete this step of our initiation, I call upon Moonstar to approve of my choice, and for StarClan to bless this young tom with the fierceness of a true wild cat. Rusty, just as all rogues joining our ranks, you shall be renamed. I now announce you… Firepaw. For the color of your pelt, glowing like a brand of fire in the sunlight.”

There was silence in the crowd that made Firepaw feel awkward, before Graypaw spoke up, cheering his name. “Firepaw! Firepaw! Firepaw!”

He was the only one for a moment, untl Redtail joined in, and then Whitestorm, and then Lionheart. A few other cats joined in, like a tiny black she-cat with fearful purple eyes about Graypaw’s size, the sandy she-cat that he recognized from before, many old-looking cats, and eventually the whole Clan except for a scarred gray and white tom, Darkstripe, and an odd brown tom who was avoiding Bluestar’s gaze.

They accepted him.

Most of them, anyway. Rusty couldn’t help but smile as the cats began to disperse, yet the four cats stayed there, which he assumed was his brigade. Bluestar guided him as he lead him down to the others, smiling softly at him.

Bluestar gave Graypaw an odd look, before turning to the others. “I need you four to do something for me. Go out into the forest with Rusty, and find a way to remove his collar. Perhaps with a sharp stick or whatever you can find. Then, you’ll need to wash off his kittypet scent.”

A brown tabby tom with big amber eyes nodded frantically, looking intimidated by Bluestar, before he turned with the other three. “C’mon, guys. You too, Firepaw.” He didn’t sound too pleased to have him.

Firepaw bounded after them, the collar still rubbing uncomfortably against his neck. He was borderline escatic to finally have it removed, because it was anything but comfortable. The forest felt nice, now. In comparison to the cold and airless kitchen, the disgusting smell of paint and sweat, and everything else he had to deal with.

They slipped out of camp and began to walk. Firepaw broke the silence, still a bit nervous to be around them, “Since you’re my brigade now, do you want to introduce yourself, or…?” That sounded really condescending, oops.

The tabby tom looked behind his shoulder, amber eyes narrowing. “Oh, uh, I’m Dustpaw. Nice to meet you, I guess,” Even then, he sounded unsure, like Firepaw would bolt off to his humans at any moment… weren’t they called twolegs? Lionheart had called them that, so he’d go with that for now, he supposed.

“You already know me! I’m Graypaw. This is Ravenpaw,  _ he’s  _ a little shy, but don’t be afraid to talk to him, haha!” Graypaw pointed his tail to the molly, and he remembered Whitestorm mentioning that Ravenpaw was a male now, so he kept that in his mind.

Ravenpaw nodded nervously, shaking and cringing away from the crowd of apprentices. “H-Hi… Firepaw.”

Graypaw shot Ravenpaw a kind smile and flicked his tail. Ravenpaw creeped a bit closer to the crowd as the sandy she-cat spoke up, her voice in a bit of a rasp, but still youthful. She didn’t sound happy to see him, “I’m Sandpaw. Best fighter out of all the apprentices. Trust me, we spar a lot, so we’d know.”

“Nice to meet all three of you,” Firepaw purred kindly, dipping his head in formal respect, before Graypaw trailed back and nudged him.

“Hey,” The apprentice purred, “You don’t need to act like that. We’re going to keep it chill, we’re going to be a brigade, right? Five is actually the classic size for brigades, didya know that? We get to do more stuff! I’m surprised that Bluestar didn’t give you your mentor so quickly. Maybe she’s waiting for someone interesting!”

…”Maybe.”

Sandpaw stopped walking, turning around. They were below a huge tree, piles of sharp sticks piled around the roots. “We’re here. Find the sharpest thing you can,” She refused to meet Firepaw’s eyes.

Ravenpaw quickly hopped into the pile and grabbed a long, sharp stick. He was on the smaller side, so he stumbled in his steps, and tensed as he dropped it before Sandpaw, backing away and nervously sitting next to Graypaw.

Sandpaw grabbed it in between her jaws, clenching her teeth so tightly around it that it looked like she could snap it in half. Looking a bit frustrated as she leaned her head forwards, she poked carefully it through Firepaw’s collar, working her way forwards slowly as she twisted it around, and for a moment there was silence.

The pinch stopped, and a gentle snapping noise could be heard. Firepaw opened his eyes to see Sandpaw dropping the stick and sinking her claws into the collar, holding it up. The bell jingled, and she grimaced. “Let’s bury this thing as soon as possible.”

Dustpaw got straight to it without being asked, and Sandpaw soon joined in. Graypaw beckoned Firepaw to sit on the other side of him, and he nervously obliged as the apprentices clawed at the dirt, and that’s when he noticed how toned their muscles were compared to his, how obviously experienced they were… how was he ever going to catch up?

Graypaw turned his head towards Firepaw while Ravenpaw watched the process of burying the collar distantly. “How are you enjoying your experience in ThunderClan, Ru- Firepaw? I think you’re going to love it here.”

Firepaw hardly knew how to respond to it, so he stayed as honest as possible. “I don’t know, it’s a bit confusing, but so far I think it’s nice. Much better than my time with my… didn’t you call them twolegs?”

Graypaw nodded. “Yep. That’s what we call them.”

Firepaw sighed with relief. He actually did something right now. Then, he asked, “I heard Bluestar mention this, but who’s Moonstar?”

That question seemed to spark something kind in Graypaw. He immediately closed his eyes and began to explain, “In our Clans, we have six gods. Moonstar, goddess of the stars, and the queen of the gods is the most important, really. Our patron is Thunderstar, the god of weather, the clouds, justice, and the forest!” He struck his paw out to show how excited he was about it, “There’s also Shadowstar, Windstar, Skystar, and Riverstar! All of which have a different purpose and Clan, other than Skystar. He’s supposedly the mate of Moonstar and king of the gods, I guess. Every medicine cat has to choose a special patron, since they connect with StarClan, the band of stars you see in the sky. This is because they’re all of the cats that died… it’s to remember them, I think.”

That sounded interesting. Firepaw tipped his head to the side, curiosity gnawing at his belly, so he continued. “Question, why do they have ‘star’ at the end of their name? I noticed that with Bluestar, too.”

Graypaw looked at the sky thoughtfully, “Well, technically, ‘star’ is the suffix for leaders, I think. With all of the leaders, it seems to be a running thing. Technically, all warriors and queens have a unique suffix, kits have ‘kit,’ and apprentices have ‘paw.’ Make sense, right?”

“Oh, uh- yeah,” This was starting to feel less foreign. His eyes turned to Sandpaw, who was kicking dirt back over the whole she had placed the collar in. Dustpaw was helping her, though he didn’t look very amused over this.

The Clan system sounded amazing. Graypaw spoke up with a purr, “There’s also a huge warrior code that Moonstar set a long time ago, which you’ll get to learn with me and stuff! C’mon, Sandpaw and Dustpaw are almost done.”

Ravenpaw, who had supposedly been listening to the conversation, stood up with the others as Dustpaw and Sandpaw finished up. Taking the lead once again, Dustpaw guided them towards the camp once again.

Walking through the woods, Firepaw wondered personally how they knew the direction they were going on. Personally, it really confused him, because everything looked the same. He knew nothing about the territory. Dustpaw seemed to know his direction though, and eventually they returned as the sun began to set. They chattered the whole way through, and he had started to like their company now. It was good to have new friends.

There was a warrior in front of the tunnel now, sitting there and watching the distant woods with alertness. Upon noticing them, she nodded with a fondness towards the apprentices and greeted them with a gentle mew as Dustpaw and Sandpaw already began to head in. Firepaw wondered if they even liked him that much.

“Hi, Willowpelt!” Graypaw purred. She nuzzled him as he walked in, and it was just Firepaw and Ravenpaw who hadn’t entered the tunnel.

Willowpelt, the white molly with icy blue eyes, nodded calmly. “You must be Firepaw. You look much better without the collar on. You already have the stature of a wild cat, you know. Just a little plumpy.”

Ravenpaw flashed her a nervous smile and walked in, supposedly to leave them to chat. Firepaw huffed with a nod, “I suppose so. Willowpelt, right?”

“The one and only,” She joked, brushing some fur down from behind his ears. Firepaw laughed at how it tickled his head as Willowpelt continued speaking. “I bet Runningwind is going to be your mentor. He seems like the kind of cat that would work well with you, he’d get you out of your shell.”

Firepaw smiled. “This is a weird question, but who should I be… like, avoiding?” He already knew Darkstripe, at least.

Willowpelt widened her eyes with a small smile. “Right to the case, hm? Well, most likely Darkstripe and Longtail. They’re not very endearing cats, be careful around them, okay? You’ve seen Darkstripe’s display of nature already, its ruthless. With Longtail, it depends. Catch him on a bad day and he’ll probably shred you.”

“Haha, thanks, I guess,” Firepaw slipped into the tunnel, watching Willowpelt look at him with a softness, though she didn’t say anything further. If all of the cats other than Darkstripe and Longtail were like this, he’d enjoy it.

The rest of his brigade were waiting for him on the other side.

“You were with Willowpelt for a while, hm?” Sandpaw said, ending her words with a scoff, ears flattening down to the back of her head. “I’m going to the apprentice’s den. We don’t have to do any night patrols, already asked Thistleclaw.”

Dustpaw gave Firepaw a sympathetic smile and bolted after her. “Wait for me, then! I’ll beat you there, chicken!”

Graypaw bounced up and down. “We should probably get you a nest ready, too! You should sleep next to Ravenpaw and I, we share a nest and stuff, haha! Sandpaw doesn’t like you that much, and I don’t think Dustpaw cares…”

“That sounds nice,” Firepaw reassured him, “Let’s go, then. Lead the way, please. I don’t know the camp that well...”

Graypaw sauntered into a den, hopping over a log and slipping into a cluster of bushes. Ravenpaw hopped over as well, and Firepaw entered. Surprisingly, there was a lot of space, and it didn’t seem stuffy. Nests were laid basically everywhere, and Graypaw and Ravenpaw were already wadding up extra moss into a den.

“Here you go!” Graypaw laid it out. “Sleep well, kay?”

“Yeah, I will,” Firepaw yawned, curling up on the nest. It wasn’t as comfortable as his cat bed, but it definitely was nice.

He fell asleep thinking about training, and what tomorrow would bring.


	6. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of character introductions. Firepaw meets his mentor... and some other people I guess.

Firepaw awoke to chaos when a paw prodded harshly at his side.

Ravenpaw was audibly screeching, running around. Sandpaw and Dustpaw looked genuinely confused while Graypaw was still snoring in his nest. Ravenpaw immediately turned to the group of apprentices, eyes stretched wide.

“Guys!” He yelled louder than Firepaw liked, though he didn’t comment, “We’re late to training! The sun is midway in the sky!”

Sandpaw gasped and tripped over Dustpaw, basically tackling straight into Graypaw, who yelled something angrily and rolled onto his stomach, bushy tail lashing. All of the previous anger dissipated as he huffed and stood up, looking a bit grumpy to be woken up from his good sleep.

Graypaw’s eyes turned to Firepaw, and he stretched his fluffy body out, stiffening up as he opened his jaws to release a loud yawn. He sat down, licking his chops, and then gave Dustpaw a pointed glare that didn’t seem genuine. “What’s... goin’ on?”

Sandpaw cut in before Dustpaw could even speak, “According to Ravenpaw, we’re late to training. It seems like morning to me,” She began to groom herself carelessly, giving Ravenpaw a few sympathetic glances, “I think we’re good, though.”

Eager to change the subject, Firepaw spoke up nervously. He was still a bit timid to speak to his brigade, even if they were supposed to bond as a team, because he was afraid of being judged for who he was. “Who are your guys’ mentors, anyway?”

She looked towards him with a cold, pointed stare. “Whitestorm,” She said, huffing and glancing away, closing her eyes in a sign of rejecting it. “Though that’s surely none of your concern,  _ Rusty.” _

“It’s Firepaw.”

“Whatever.”

Dustpaw spoke next. “Oh, Thistleclaw’s my mentor. He’s the deputy of the Clan, but he’s a little insane. Kind of violent. He’s fun, but there’s a word around here that he brutally murdered a twoleg’s dog without the help of any of his clanmates.”

Sandpaw chuckled like that was stupid, “You know that it’s a really old tale, right? I think the one regarding Spottedleaf is much more interesting.”

“G-Guys, let’s not talk about Thistleclaw rumors,” Ravenpaw vocalized his concerns, nervously licking his paw while continuing to shiver, “My mentor is Redtail. H-He’s a younger warrior, but he’s really nice…”

Firepaw recognized that name and smiled, but it was quickly cut off as Graypaw made the annoying decision to talk about his mentor, “Mine is Lionheart! He’s a really good warrior, like the opposite of Thistleclaw, right?”

Dustpaw frowned. “Thistleclaw can be nice sometimes. He just killed a dog once.”

“Sure…” Graypaw blinked away the sleepiness, yawning again, and looked at Ravenpaw once more, “What’s this about being late, anyway?”

Ravenpaw whimpered and backed next to him, brushing against his flank. “W-Well… the sun’s really high in the sky, and-”

“LIONHEART’S GONNA KILL ME!” Graypaw yelped loudly, hopping upwards. He seemed to have an alertness that Firepaw had seen when they had fought, and it really made Firepaw wonder how scary Lionheart could be.

The young apprentice turned on his back and bolted out of the den, bounding away. Ravenpaw shot Firepaw a kind smile, following after him, probably to go calm down the terrified apprentice. Firepaw slipped out of the den and back into the camp, looking back at Sandpaw and Dustpaw, who huffed and followed after.

When he walked out, he noticed that indeed, it was pretty late in the day. Yesterday had been rather rough for him, going to a new setting and meeting so many new cats, so Firepaw had slept restlessly and only coined in a few moments, before finally collapsing around sunhigh. Of course he had slept in.

Around the camp, warriors were working. Some were eating from the stack of prey that had been called the “fresh kill pile,” and Firepaw could recognize Willowpelt with an unusual tortoiseshell molly who was talking to her with a mouthful of herbs. Almost instantly, he approached the two, visibly nervous.

“Hi, Willowpelt,” He said timidly in a low voice, shuffling his paws.

Willowpelt bowed her head respectfully with a smile, tail twitching. The she-cat next to her looked curiously at Firepaw, though she seemed to know who he was. He could barely recognize her. from the crowd of cats before, but there was no… significant interactions between them. Interesting.

“Hey, Firepaw. This is Spottedleaf, our medicine cat,” Willowpelt explained, noticing how Firepaw seemed confused, and she continued. “Basically, she’s our healer. If you get hurt, sick, or if you have a weird dream, you usually just go to her. She connects with the gods.”

Something clicked in his mind and he vocalized, “Uh, not to be awkward but, Spottedleaf, who’s your… what’s it called, patron god? That thing.”

Spottedleaf purred, gently placing her herbs on the floor. “Oh, mine?” She smirked, “Shadowstar. She’s the goddess of mystery, kindness, war, and wisdom. She’s also the natural patron for obviously ShadowClan, but she called out to me nonetheless.”

That sounded interesting, but he didn’t dwell. Willowpelt confirmed something odd, “Oh, Spottedleaf is my sister, if you’re wondering. Redtail is our… brother, too. We’re an interesting team, aren’t we?”

Firepaw hummed. “...I guess so. Uh, do you guys know who my mentor is, by the way? I wasn’t assigned...”

Willowpelt perked her ears. “Oh, there’s been a lot of debate about that. To the point where Lionheart asked Bluestar personally. Runningwind will be mentoring you. This will be his first apprentice, he’ll definitely be happy to mentor with Redtail at his side, too.”

Firepaw tipped his head to the side. “Wait… what do you mean?”

He tried not to feel any burning disappointment about Runningwind. He’d almost hoped Willowpelt would be his mentor, since she seemed really nice.

Spottedleaf and Willowpelt exchanged smug glances and shrugged their shoulders. The medicine cat picked up her herbs and stalked off before any more words about the subject could be spoken, leaving Firepaw confused.

Two seconds alone, and suddenly Graypaw popped up at his side. “Firepaw! I talked to Lionheart, he’s letting me show you around the camp so you can meet the whole Clan. Isn’t it neat?!” He purred.

Shaking away the overwhelming shock by the attention, Firepaw nodded calmly with a soft smile. Graypaw immediately bounded off in a random direction, and he had to struggle to keep up with his friend without stumbling over himself.

The first place they arrived at was a large cluster of bushes, much bigger than the apprentice’s den. It towered over them, but Graypaw didn’t seem fazed. “This is the warrior’s den,” He explained, “We’re not warriors, so we shouldn’t go in there.”

“How many warriors do you even have?” Firepaw asked, shuffling his paws at the sheer sight of the den.

“Hmm…” Graypaw thought on that for a moment, tail twitching. “I dunno. I’m not good at counting, not exactly a cool skill. Oh! I’ll go introduce you to the elders, since we gotta take care of them and stuff!”

He rushed off, and once again Firepaw had to work hard to keep up with Graypaw’s pace, especially since he was a bit heavy due to his kittypet life. Hopefully he’d slim down by the time he was a warrior.

Graypaw lifted ferns with his muzzle and beckoned Firepaw to follow with a flick of his tail, rubbing his fur across an abandoned tree trunk before slipping into a hole that went downwards. Firepaw guessed it was definitely the elder’s den and followed as well, humming peacefully to himself at the calmness of the camp.

He was immediately greeted by a group of old, matted battle-scarred cats. Most of which still seemed peaceful, laying down or chatting among themselves, sharing prey. Graypaw was standing with them, conversing with a cat who had surprisingly small ears and slick gray fur, though a bit scruffy due to lack of proper care.

“Ah!” The old tom purred, catching the attention of the other elders. “You must be the new apprentice, Firepaw! Its not often ThunderClan accepts new cats from outside the Clans ever since Pinestar left.” He began to groom himself.

Another elder’s expression turned slightly steely at the mention of whoever Pinestar was, but they didn’t comment.

“N-Nice to meet you,” Firepaw dipped his head. “Y-Yeah, that’s… um, me?”  _ Awkward _ , he internally noted.

A dark brown tabby spoke up as well, green eyes gentle and warm though wise with age. “Say, kit, have you ever had wild prey before, freshly caught? Whitestorm gave us a few mice, and we have plenty to share.”

A small black and white tom commented back, “...Yeah. Prey’s been pretty plentiful, more than last summer when the drought struck. I swear, Willowpelt was only an apprentice and she was ready to take on all of RiverClan for Sunningrocks because of it.”

The tom with small ears chuckled, nodding his head.

Not dwelling on that whole topic, he continued, “I’ve never had any mice before.”

Graypaw’s eyes lightened and he hopped up and down. “Perfect! You’re never wild until you taste your first mouse.”

As the dark brown tom slid an extra, fresh mouse, Firepaw couldn’t help but purr. Graypaw started loudly introducing all of them to him.

The dark brown tom was apparently named Halftail, the cat that first greeted him was Smallear, and the black and white tom was Patchpelt. They seemed really nice. Firepaw hesitated on his mouse… prey was scarce, wasn’t it?

Graypaw bumped his shoulder. “Go on, take a bite! We have a chance to walk around, and I can show you the rest of the territory and all that. Lionheart even said he and your mentor will walk us around the territory! I hardly know it, so being told again might help.”

As Graypaw rambled, Firepaw sucked it up and leaned down, taking his first bite of mouse. Warmth flooded between his teeth as the bones cracked between his jaws, fresh blood warm against his tongue. It wasn’t as chewy as a lot of the meat that he got from his hue-mans, and it wasn’t as crunchy as the dumb pellets he got otherwise. It was… delicious. Firepaw purred again, and the elders around him laughed quietly.

“How is it?” Patchpelt asked.

Firepaw looked up, licking some of the blood off his chops. “Delicious!” He said, not aware that his voice was muffled by the mouse still in his mouth.

“I remember my first taste of mouse,” Patchpelt chuckled, wrapping his tail around his paws as he curled up, “I was only about a moon old. I was so fiery and ready back then... to grow up and become a warrior, just as every kit in the nursery. It was so delicious, eating solids, and I never went back.”

Smallear smiled, looking into the distance, eyes clouded. “I’m a bit worried about Bluestar’s choices right now. Is it only me?”

Patchpelt’s attention was moved to Smallear. Graypaw and Firepaw exchanged perplexed looks and cast their attention to the old tom, which seemed to be staring out into the distance. Maybe learning about some of the Clan politics would really get Firepaw integrated into the Clans, right? Hopefully.

“After Thrushpelt died to greencough, I’m surprised that Bluestar was so quick to make Thistleclaw her deputy. There were more honorable and younger warriors… Lionheart, Tigerclaw, even Redtail or Runningwind.”

Patchpelt looked at Graypaw as he chowed down on the rest of the mouse. “I suppose, but, I don’t know if Thistleclaw will make it to leadership. Bluestar hasn’t even lost many of her lives, so she should be safe.”

“Lives?” Firepaw asked.

“Oh, I’m a mousebrain,” Patchpelt chuckled, “All of the leaders are gifted nine lives, which is a symbol of their leadership. Bluestar is no exception. So, to rephrase, she has to die nine times in order to truly be dead.”

How far did this whole system go? Firepaw looked at Patchpelt with surprise, shoulders relaxing. No wonder Bluestar seemed so highly respected as a leader, when she couldn’t die. What was it like, dying? How did that work?

“Anyway,” Graypaw cut him out of that conversation quick; which was definitely helpful, because Firepaw most likely would’ve stood there dumbfounded for an annoyingly long time, “These are the elders! I still have to show you everywhere else, like the medicine cat den and nursery.”

Graypaw strolled out at a slower pace. Though he had his usual confident and energetic strides, his tail seemed to be drooping and his shoulders hunched. Something was wrong, like the whole talk about the deputy was a touchy subject in the Clan, more than they liked to let on. Firepaw felt a ball of ice in his stomach. How bad was it?

They went back into the clearing, where it was only about midday. It was really going by fast, mostly because all of the apprentices had slept in late. It made sense, because they’d really had a long day… Firepaw especially.

“Okay, follow me,” Graypaw said, not as enthusiastic, but by his smile, he was definitely trying, “I’m gonna show you the medicine cat’s den, which is where Spottedleaf heals sick and injured cats… pulls out thorns, makes sure we don’t poison ourselves.”

“I’ve talked to Spottedleaf before,” Firepaw commented, “She was with Willowpelt. They’re littermates with Redtail, right?”

Graypaw tipped his head to the side with thought, “I don’t pay attention, but yeah! They were a really powerful brigade, y’know. According to some of the senior warriors, they took down a whole RiverClan patrol!”

“There seems to be a lot of rumors around here,” Firepaw muttered, flanking Graypaw as they walked across the camp.

The gray tom shrugged, purring. “Yeah, apprentices especially love talking about it. I’m not the biggest fan, but it’s fun to hear about the past.”

“I guess so.”

“Yeah!”

Graypaw walked into a cut in the stone walls, where the shadows grew the most. Spottedleaf had commented that her patron was Shadowstar, so he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe all of the scary darkness was a thing associated with her, or if he was just making up tall tales with no meaning behind them. Both seemed to work.

Inside, the place seemed a bit dreary compared to the beauty of camp. There was a single molly that Firepaw recognized as Spottedleaf, organizing some kind of dried up spiky leaves. She was wrapping them up and piling them on an area where the rocks jutted out, like some kind of shelf that his hue-mans had. Firepaw mentally clawed himself for thinking about anything related to his hue-mans. He was a wild cat now.

Spottedleaf didn’t seem to mind their presence for a moment, but she lifted her head, the concentration in her amber eyes ebbing away. She turned, very slowly, and purred with a relaxed smile. “Hello, Graypaw. Giving Firepaw a tour?”

Graypaw sat down, dipping his head. He looked at her with more respect and borderline fear than he did around Bluestar, which really made Firepaw wonder how important medicine cats truly were to the Clan. “Yep, of course!”

When Firepaw focused on Spottedleaf’s sleek and well-groomed features, he realized how she could relate to such a goddess of mystery, kindness, war, and wisdom. For mystery, she definitely held those traits. Though she seemed kind, her amber pools held something deeper, darker, more careful and calculating, almost untrusting. Perhaps being a medicine cat truly suited her, because she seemed wise for such a young age, and he could guess just by looking at her that she was definitely more diplomatic than she was violent.

Firepaw was intimidated in more ways than one. She was definitely a pretty tortoiseshell, but he knew he couldn’t underestimate her, either. He’d rarely met cats like her during his time as a kittypet, but all he knew was that they were unpredictable.

Spottedleaf didn’t seem to notice Firepaw’s inner thoughts (or she didn’t care.) Her ears perked curiously at him, and her eyes narrowed. “Ah, has he met the elders yet? Got his taste of any fresh kill?”

“Of course!” Graypaw replied, before realizing how loud he’d been. He shrunk back, repeating himself in a much quieter tone, “Of course. It seems like tradition… it’s what Dustpaw and Sandpaw did to me when I first became an apprentice.”

Spottedleaf stared at Firepaw for a long moment, her pupils in slits, though it didn’t seem angry. More focused. “Take him to the nursery next, I suppose. Goldenflower always appreciates visitors. So do the kits.”

“There’s kits?” Firepaw marveled, lifting his head, eyes sparkling. Now that was something he could get by. Kits were adorable.

“Uh, duh, of course! There’s a ton of them, going to be the next brigade after us. There’s actually more of them than us at the moment, but from what I’ve seen, they’re already warrior-ready!” Graypaw purred, louder.

Firepaw hopped to his paws. “Well, what are we waiting for?” He asked, enthusiastic. Kits were always so nice and adorable, he couldn’t wait to meet them. Not to mention they’d be apprentices? It sounded amazing.

Graypaw bumped Firepaw’s flank and rushed him out of the den. Spottedleaf flicked her tail to acknowledge them leaving and hunched back over, falling silent. Firepaw didn’t have time to think about how he’d just left her alone, because, ugh!  _ Kits! _

They raced across the camp, and Graypaw looked at one of the older warriors hunched around the fresh kill pile. “Hi Tigerclaw! Hi Darkstripe!”

Both looked incredibly scary. The brown tabby tom, Tigerclaw, just stared at them. His amber eyes melted the ice in Firepaw’s chest, and he managed to look away. The dark gray tom, Darkstripe, just looked away with a huff and minded his business.

“What’s up with them?” Firepaw was heaving with all the walking and running, and he knew he’d be dropping weight with all this exercise. “Dog got their tongue?”

“Nah, they’re just mean. Here’s the nursery!” Graypaw stopped at a cluster of well-protected bushes, and shoved through. Firepaw struggled to get in, and the air was much more stuffy. They were greeted with something amazing.

Though it wasn’t as dark and shadowed as Spottedleaf’s den, it smelled of milk, and kits were everywhere. There were four fully-grown she-cats whose attention snapped to him as soon as he stepped into the den. And the amount of kits was outstanding, because for Moonstar’s sake, there was a  _ lot  _ of them.

And, he was immediately tackled. He let out a surprised yelp as a group of kits instantly piled onto him, giving excited squeals.

“Firepaw! Firepaw!” A gray she-cat trilled, standing on his chest, “You’re the new apprentice! You look like fire! Look, mama, it’s Firepaw! It’s Firepaw!”

A pretty white she-cat looked up, blue eyes softening. “Now, now, Cinderkit. That’s not the way to greet the newcomer. And hello, Firepaw. Graypaw.”

“I was just showing Firepaw a tour,” Graypaw purred, carefully batting Cinderkit off of him. Cinderkit squealed and rolled away, the other kits following suite. Firepaw stood up, ruffling his fur with a calm huff.

Such a change of pace.

“We miss you in the nursery!” A white she-cat purred to Graypaw. She was covered in ginger splotches, her big doe eyes basically glowing blue. “Grayk- Graypaw, where have you been? We’ve been so lonely! Ashkit and Fernkit never want to play!”

A golden she-cat looked up, curling her tail around two young kits suckling at her belly. “That’s because Ashkit and Fernkit are not as big as you. You’re three moons old, they’re only a bit more than a moon.”

A dark brown queen blinked blearily, “Yeah… I don’t want you to play with my kits yet. They’re so small… and you’ll most likely be out of the nursery before they’re old enough, so they can play with Goldenflower’s kits.”

The golden she-cat, who was most  _ definitely  _ the mentioned Goldenflower, smiled. “Swiftkit and Lynxkit are only newborns. I’m unsure…”

Graypaw purred, “I guess I should introduce you to everyone. Brown she-cat is Brindleface, the mom to Ashkit and Fernkit!” His tail cracked in their direction. Brindleface dipped her head respectfully and went back to grooming her kits.

“You already know Goldenflower, and that’s Frostfur!” Graypaw purred, “They’re usually cooped up in the nursery until their kits are apprentices, which will probably come a while after we’re warriors. They’re only three moons old, and they have to be six moons to actually leave and go out into the territory.”

The white molly with ginger splotches basically rolled towards him. “H-Hi… I’m Brightkit,” She said, surprisingly calm for someone at the age of three moons, “Guys! Introduce yourselves to Firepaw, since he’s new.”

The spunky gray she-cat that had tackled him puffed out her chest with pride, standing in her mother’s tail. “I’m the one and only Cinderkit! I’m the oldest, I’m the coolest, and I watch over this den!”

“Sure…” A younger bracken-colored tom muttered, standing out in the open, almost shy. “I’m, uh, Brackenkit. I’m kinda the youngest… and the smallest.”

Firepaw leaned down. “It’s nice to meet you all,” He marveled. Cinderkit nuzzled his muzzle with excited purring, and Brightkit only smiled, “What about you?” He looked at the sleepy kit in the corner, curled up to his mother, but definitely part of the litter by size.

He looked up. He was the most golden, striped, with amber eyes. He seemed kind of bored. “Oh… I’m Thornkit,” He said, clearly tired.

“Yep, this is the nursery! Anyway, we should get going before Lionheart maims me. We get to go with our mentors and look around the territory! The rest of the brigade will be there too, our place is huge,” Graypaw rambled, butting his head against Firepaw’s flank, shoving him out of the den.

“Noooo,” Firepaw muttered. The kits were just so cute.

 

He ended up following him anyway, looking back at the nursery. At the entrance of the camp he noticed Lionheart, Redtail, and Whitestorm, all chatting calmly. He tried not to look at how Whitestorm seemed so well-muscled… would Firepaw be like that one day? Would he be as powerful as any other warrior? He wasn’t sure.

There was a cat he didn’t recognize, though. He seemed the most battle scarred and worn out compared to all of them, covered head to tail in long, thick scars. His amber eyes were darker and scarier than even Tigerclaw’s, and he just seemed to have a permanent scowl on his features. His muzzle and chest were white.

Redtail seemed to be giving Thistleclaw a death glare, for some odd reason. His bushy tail was lashing, pupils slitted like he wasn’t happy to see him. Firepaw would take that into account… maybe Redtail just didn’t like him at all.

“Who’s that?” Firepaw muttered as they approached.

“That’s Thistleclaw,” Graypaw whispered back, “He’s the deputy of the Clan, and Dustpaw’s mentor. He’s scary, right?”

Firepaw didn’t reply. The apprentices were emerging from their own points, as if called there, all chatting among themselves. Ravenpaw bounded up to Graypaw and whispered something in his ear, causing Graypaw to calmly nuzzle him.

“So, uh,” Sandpaw snarled, eyes darting around, “Tour for the kittypet, right?”

Whitestorm bumped her shoulder, and Sandpaw corrected herself. “I mean, the  _ new apprentice.  _ Part of our brigade.”

Dustpaw chuckled under his breath, but Thistleclaw glared at him. The brown apprentice’s gaze turned steely, and he fixed his posture, looking as serious and daunting as ever. Maybe he was just trying to impress his mentor, or maybe Dustpaw was scared of his mentor. Firepaw would never really know.

“Have you met your mentor yet, Firepaw?” Lionheart asked, “He should be back from a hunting patrol, about now.”

“I haven’t,” Firepaw admitted, “Can I meet him?”

Lionheart lifted his muzzle, catching a whiff of the air, ears perked observantly. “Yes, he’s coming… right now, actually.”

The bushes rustled, and a figure shoved out. Firepaw’s first imminent though was  _ Oh no, not another pretty cat.  _ His thoughts were proven true as Runningwind emerged from the bushes, holding a rabbit.

He was wiry and muscled, very lean and toned. His fur had no sign of scars except for old ones, yet it reflected sunlight almost beautifully. He wasn’t as masculine as he could’ve been, an androgynous mix. His pelt was a light, sandy brown, covered in dark mud-brown stripes. His eyes were shining an emerald green, practically glowing with passion. His tail was wagging back and forth, a tiny smile clear as he parted his sharp teeth.

“Runningwind,” Whitestorm dipped his head at the entering warrior, “You haven’t met your apprentice yet.”

The tom froze in his tracks, breaking out of that heroic pose. He hesitated for a long time, before dropping and leaping high in the air, hitting the grass softly. He stared at Firepaw for a long moment, as if trying to form words, before his eyes lit up.

“Oh man, great Thunderstar!” He said, surprisingly cheerful. He sounded like he couldn’t believe it. “I’m such an idiot, I forgot I had an apprentice! Dang, you’re Firepaw, right?” He looked relieved when Firepaw nodded. “-It’s so nice to meet you. I can mentor next to Redtail now and I can like, be with him more-”

He turned to Lionheart and realized Redtail was sitting there, looking at him with his head tipped to the side. Runningwind sputtered and stepped back, right next to Firepaw with an almost frantic look in his eyes. Why was he so nervous around Redtail, anyway?

“Runningwind,” Redtail said, almost amused, “Looking as show-off-y as usual, I can see.”

“Hehe, yeah!” Runningwind purred, turning as the other cats in the patrol walked out of the bushes. He recognized Darkstripe, Willowpelt, and a long-bodied pale tom covered in black stripes that Firepaw didn’t know.

“Yo,” Runningwind drawled on to the pale tom, “Longtail, can you get my rabbit to the fresh kill pile? I have to show Firepaw around, since he’s new and all that.”

Longtail’s eyes shifted to Firepaw, dark and cloudy with suspicion, “Oh yes, show the kittypet our territory,” He snarled, grabbing the rabbit with the crow he’d caught. Darkstripe followed after him.

“Redtail, Runningwind!” Willowpelt said cheerfully, nuzzling Runningwind briefly and basically slamming into Redtail, purring.

“Hey, I just groomed my fur,” Redtail snapped, but his voice was edged with amusement, “I gotta help show Firepaw around, don’t mess me up here.”

Runningwind wiped his cheek on his shoulder, “Willowpelt,” He said, “You should go give the rabbit I caught to the elders, yeah? Patchpelt loves rabbits.”

Willowpelt nodded and padded off, leaving Redtail on the ground. Redtail rolled to the side and hopped back up.

“Can we get going now?” Thistleclaw snarled. Firepaw had forgotten he was there. Redtail glared at the deputy, but looked back at Runningwind with affection. So quick to change moods, Firepaw realized. Maybe it was a Runningwind influenced thing.

“Oh, yeah!” Runningwind said, “C’mon, guys. I call leader!”

And they left the camp.

This was going to go swell.


End file.
